


Holding Patterns

by manic_intent



Series: Independent Minds [3]
Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Alpha!Reuenthal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Imperial!Yang, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega!Yang, That Omegaverse AU with Imperial!Yang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27197926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: The capital city of Phezzan didn’t look like it was under military occupation. The Yang Fleet wasn’t in low orbit, which made it invisible to the naked eye from ground level, and the few Phezzanese citizens Reuenthal passed glanced at his uniform without comment. If the architecture and layout of the city didn’t look so wildly different from Odin, Reuenthal would’ve thought he was still in Imperial space.The landcar took Reuenthal past the graceful, organic-looking energy-efficient spires of the Phezzanese capital, threading toward the governor’s mansion. The gravity on Phezzan was lighter than Odin’s, expressing its presence in construction that looked too delicate, in settlers who looked taller and more elongated with each generation. Would humanity someday look wildly different based on who had settled where and why? Such a thing would only lead to war, given the way human history had always worked out on something like this.
Relationships: Oskar von Reuenthal/Yang Wenli
Series: Independent Minds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609534
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Holding Patterns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingevil/gifts).



> Donation prompt by @beingevil, who asked for a continuation to Independent Minds: birthdays and celebrations. Written for Reuenthal's birthday.

The capital city of Phezzan didn’t look like it was under military occupation. The Yang Fleet wasn’t in low orbit, which made it invisible to the naked eye from ground level, and the few Phezzanese citizens Reuenthal passed glanced at his uniform without comment. If the architecture and layout of the city didn’t look so wildly different from Odin, Reuenthal would’ve thought he was still in Imperial space. 

The landcar took Reuenthal past the graceful, organic-looking energy-efficient spires of the Phezzanese capital, threading toward the governor’s mansion. The gravity on Phezzan was lighter than Odin’s, expressing its presence in construction that looked too delicate, in settlers who looked taller and more elongated with each generation. Would humanity someday look wildly different based on who had settled where and why? Such a thing would only lead to war, given the way human history had always worked out on something like this. 

Vast as the empire was, it’d tried to impose restrictions on such a possibility by heavily encouraging everyone to follow the same naming conventions, speaking and writing the same languages. Dialects were stamped out, with every school curriculum tightly controlled and taught in Imperial standard. It’d still thrown out people like the man he was here to see, with a name unrepentantly outside the norm, with an attitude no amount of Imperial standardisation could tame. 

Julian met Reuenthal at the door of the governor’s mansion. Yang’s ward had grown tall on the cusp of adulthood, a protective beta who frowned as he recognised Reuenthal getting out of the landcar. Reuenthal permitted himself a cold smile. No one in Yang’s inner circle approved of Reuenthal, and it suited him that way. He had no interest in befriending any of them, even if sometimes Yang liked to make snide comments about how he preferred to have less drama in his life. 

“The Admiral isn’t here,” Julian said as Reuenthal got to the steps of the sprawling villa. 

“He’s back in orbit?” Reuenthal kept a firm grip on his temper. It’d have been just like Yang’s staff to ‘forget’ to inform him of something like that after Reuenthal had gone through all the trouble to make landfall and clear customs. 

“He’s in the park,” Julian said, his expression stiff. As Reuenthal considered the relative indignity of having to pull rank on a boy, Julian gestured for Reuenthal to follow him and headed out of the mansion at a brisk walk. 

The park in question was a few blocks away from the mansion, a long enough walk that Reuenthal began to sweat into his insulated uniform. Idly, he contemplated the risk of assassins sprouting out of the lush rooftops or hidden in the crowds squeezing through the colourful array of stalls packed into the paved division between the streets. As Reuenthal pushed past yet another stall selling scarves with patterns that animated on touch or command, he kept his hand close to the gun at his hip. The smell of something redolently spicy lingered against Reuenthal’s clothes as they emerged from the crowd, slipping through a narrow alley lined with holographic posters about an upcoming experimental theatre play. 

Living walls and suspended plants in glass banks floated over long benches, kept artificially cool by mist that spat down from nozzles hidden among the leaves. People lined the benches, playing a game that looked annoyingly familiar—simple grids with black and white seeds. Yang had become obsessed with this Phezzanese game just before leaving to Phezzan, spending much of his waking hours playing it.

Reuenthal looked down the line of concentrating players and spotted Yang in a rumpled coat near the end. He strode over, only for Yang to hold up a palm without looking at him. 

“Almost done,” Yang said. His opponent, an alpha twice his age, sniffed loudly but said nothing. Reuenthal tried not to tense up. Yang was hardly defenceless—Commander Schönkopf leant against a navigation panel, arms folded. It still irked Reuenthal to see Yang seated shoulder to shoulder with strangers, with all of his attention focused on the man before him. 

A slow game by any measure, Reuenthal began shifting on his feet by the time Yang’s opponent conceded defeat, bowing to Yang over the board. The alpha exchanged a stern glance with Reuenthal before getting up to leave. “Finished?” Reuenthal asked. 

“Maybe one more game,” Yang said, as though Reuenthal hadn’t wrangled leave and crossed Imperial space to get here. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Reuenthal couldn’t help the edge that crept into his tone. 

Yang laughed. “Ruling the Phezzanese Corridor? Please. No. They were doing fine by themselves before I got here. I sign whatever they want me to sign.” 

“Don’t be so lazy,” Reuenthal said. He circled the long bench and sat opposite Yang. 

Yang smiled at him, languid but for his eyes, which were full of resentment. Yang hadn’t wanted to be part of this campaign. Nor had he wanted to be installed as the Governor-General of the region. His cold response to the Kaiser’s edict was already the stuff of legends. A galaxy-wide broadcast of a single word: “Fine.” 

Reuenthal helped reset the board and gestured at it with a flourish. Yang put down a seed and watched avidly as Reuenthal made his move. “Have you been studying this game?” Yang asked. 

“Seems to be the only way to get your full attention,” Reuenthal said. 

He’d intended to sound teasing or playful, but the words came out gruff. Yang laughed. He leaned forward, lips pressed against his knuckles. Reuenthal had studied Go during the long transit from Tiamat to Phezzan and had grudgingly conceded Yang’s point about its complexity. Unlike Yang, however, Reuenthal didn’t see any real correlation between a game of seeds on a grid and the grand games of tactics and death that he played out against the FPA on Reinhard’s command. War was not a game of straightforward rules and simple consequences. 

After the first ten minutes, Yang whistled. “Not bad so far.” 

“Better than you,” Reuenthal said, with a frown. “Are you going easy on me?” 

“I never go easy on anyone,” Yang said. They played to a bloody draw. As Reuenthal straightened up, rubbing his back, he noted belatedly that they were one of the only pairs remaining in the park. “Wah, how did you get so much better so quickly?” Yang asked. 

“Didn’t have much else to do on the way here,” Reuenthal said, “and besides, I understand my opponent. Which gives me an edge.” 

Yang tilted his head. “I thought you said that these games do not correlate with the reality of war.” 

“They don’t. I wouldn’t have fought you to draw in an armed conflict. Save within limited circumstances.”

“You aren’t that bad,” Yang said, though he smiled, amused. He got up, yawning hugely without covering his mouth. “Treat me to dinner. I’ll show you where.” 

Obnoxiousness like that from Yang had long ceased to annoy Reuenthal. He inclined his head as he got up, walking over to press a palm over the small of Yang’s back. Just for the look that got him from Julian and Schönkopf. They emerged into busy night traffic, dodging people hurrying home from work or heading for dinner. Conscious that his uniform marked him as out of place, Reuenthal stared down suspicious stares and sidelong glances, keeping close to Yang. 

Dinner was understated, in a tiny restaurant close to the river, a nook of a place with only twelve seated spaces around a narrow bench. The chef served tiny portions of local fauna that Reuenthal could not begin to recognise if he tried. Everything tasted odd, if palatable. He tried not to look at the strange patterns in the flesh too closely, especially the raw dishes. Few things had real context to what he was used to in Odin, though his brain tried.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Yang said as they ate. “How the human brain has such a small scope of context where flavour is concerned.” 

“We do only tend to recognise a limited set of flavour profiles,” Reuenthal said. He wasn’t much of a gourmet. Neither was Yang, despite Julian’s best efforts. “Dinner out? That’s unlike you.” 

“Julian deserves a day off now and then,” Yang said, though that couldn’t have been it. Yang’s laziness tended to outweigh his solicitousness. He leaned into Reuenthal, pressed thigh to thigh in the small restaurant, rubbing his cheek against Reuenthal’s shoulder. For any other omega, it would’ve been a gesture of assurance or comfort. With Yang, things were never that simple. Reuenthal responded anyway, following instinct. He nuzzled Yang’s throat, breathing in his scent, pressing his tongue over the quivering hollow. Reuenthal’s cock twitched in his pants as Yang chuckled and pulled away. The chef and the other customers politely pretended not to notice. 

“How have things been here?” Reuenthal asked.

“Fine? I think. I try to keep things the same.”

“Wasn’t there a vermin issue?” Reinhard had deemed the so-called Black Fox of Phezzan a terrorist. 

“We’re working on it,” Yang said, sounding not in the least concerned. Reuenthal met his gaze evenly, spearing one of the steamed parcels of meat with a fork. They finished the rest of the meal in silence with fine wines, only for Reuenthal to realise at the end that Phezzan still didn’t accept Imperial credit. Laughing, Yang paid. An official landcar idled outside on the main street, waiting to whisk them home. During the drive, squeezing through snarled traffic, Yang chuckled. 

“It should have occurred to me,” Reuenthal said. 

“Probably,” Yang agreed. 

“Shouldn’t you switch them over to Imperial coinage?”

“Not without causing severe disruption to the local economy, and likely driving the creation of a black market. I’ll do it when told, but only when told.”

“About that,” Reuenthal began.

“Surely this is a social visit,” Yang said, pursing his lips, daring Reuenthal to disagree. Yang stayed contemplative on the way back to the mansion. Most of its fineries had been taken down, leaving the walls pockmarked with pale spaces where art and trophies had hung. 

“Looting the area already?” Reuenthal asked as they passed Imperial guards and Phezzanese clerks. 

“I let whoever who worked here take whatever they wanted home if they wished,” Yang said, indifferent. “You should’ve seen this place before. Mildly disturbing collages everywhere.” 

“Generous of you. A bribe?” 

“More like free labour. The art I don’t like gets carted away, and nobody has to pay for disposal fees,” Yang said, though his mouth quirked as he drew Reuenthal into his private chambers. He trailed his fingertips over Reuenthal’s jaw once they were alone. tickling the arch of his neck. “Good work in Tiamat.” 

“Don’t patronise me,” Reuenthal said, kissing after Yang’s fingers. “You, a man who can hardly be bothered to attend briefings? I doubt you stayed abreast of my exploits.”

“You must have done good work if you’re here,” Yang said, his expression unreadable as he picked open the first button at Reuenthal’s collar. 

Reuenthal grabbed Yang’s wrists. “What do you mean?” 

Yang studied Reuenthal curiously. “So you don’t know?”

“I’m too tired for riddles.” 

“I think our relationship, uneven as it has been, no longer amuses the Kaiser,” Yang said, lowering his voice. 

“He didn’t say anything to me,” Reuenthal said, though it made sense. Why would Reinhard install Yang as the Phezzanese Governor-General, given Yang's ever-stated hatred of this sort of responsibility? Likely, he hoped to occupy Yang enough to keep him out of trouble, all the while making it difficult for Yang and Reuenthal to see each other regularly.

“You don’t sound surprised, however.”

Reuenthal laughed. He drew Yang into his arms, curling his arms around Yang’s back. “The two most troublesome Admirals under the Kaiser’s command being in a relationship? One who’s as much a tactical genius as the Kaiser, and the other who’s expressed intentions to rebel should his lot no longer suit him? No surprise.” 

“Rebellion, hm?” Yang’s fingers pressed over Reuenthal’s lips. “Now there’s an idea.”

Reuenthal tensed. He drew Yang deeper into the room, with a wary glance at the door. “Don’t joke about that,” Reuenthal said softly. “Oberstein has ears everywhere.” 

“Why are you able to joke about it but not me?”

“The Kaiser doesn’t see me as much of a threat.” That stung Reuenthal to know, sometimes. Yet it was true. Objectively, Reuenthal knew that were he ever to rise in rebellion against Reinhard, he would lose. Reinhard was a better tactician. More, the Kaiser commanded immense personal loyalty across his empire—a loyalty rivalled only by the loyalty Yang commanded within his own sizeable fleet. 

Yang leaned up, brushing a lingering kiss over Reuenthal’s mouth. Lazy as he was, it was a clumsy gesture, but Reuenthal growled anyway, holding Yang closer. “Why,” Yang murmured, “would you join me if I rebelled? We could hold the Phezzanese Corridor. Ally with the Black Fox. Retake Iserlohn and hash out an alliance with the FPA.”

If anyone could get away with it, it was Yang. Yet Reuenthal knew him better than that. He nipped Yang against his throat. “Why would you go to so much trouble? A war on that scale… millions will die. Why put yourself through the thing you hate the most? You have nothing to prove.” Reuenthal tipped up Yang’s chin. “You cannot change anything about humanity. Not in any way that matters.” 

Yang looked away with a soft, sharp sound of distress. It ached to have hurt him so, close as they were. Instinct clawed for Reuenthal to soothe Yang, to kiss him pliant. Reuenthal knew that he’d be thrown out of the mansion if he tried. Yang trembled in Reuenthal’s embrace, but his hands were clenched into fists in Reuenthal’s jacket. “All I can do,” Yang muttered, as though to himself. “Execute a holding pattern. Over and over.” 

“There _is_ a way. If retirement is what you want, and only retirement.” 

“Oh?” 

Reuenthal smiled ruefully. “Marry me and bear my children. I’ll install you back in a villa in Odin. You can live like the other Admiralty partners, like Mittermeier’s wife—in comfort and obscurity.” 

“That’s not a nice way to talk about people,” Yang said, poking Reuenthal in the chest. “Besides, you don’t want children.” 

“Better that outcome than a civil war.” 

“As though you have any real objections to a civil war. I know you well. Should you be given half the chance to take up arms against Reinhard, no matter how flimsy the reason, you’d be tempted.”

“It won’t be for my sake, but yours,” Reuenthal said, daring Yang to disagree. Yang met his gaze, but only for a heartbeat before dropping his eyes, shivering. He picked at Reuenthal’s jacket without undoing any of the clasps, turning passive as Reuenthal pulled them into the bedroom. He stripped Yang down to his underclothes with gentle fingers. 

As Reuenthal worked on his boots, Yang said, “An idyllic life, with fewer complications.” 

“Different complications,” Reuenthal corrected. 

Yang flopped down on the bed, folding his hands over his chest. “Tempting, and yet somehow insulting.” 

“How so?” Reuenthal asked, removing his jacket and hanging it on a chair close to the bed. Luxurious as the fittings were, the room had also been stripped of most of its fineries, with gaps in the wall and empty spaces on the display shelves. “It’d be a legitimate excuse. Pregnancy is difficult on any planet without the right gravity, atmosphere, and medical facilities. Let alone in space. You’d have the right to live quietly downwell for months—”

“Urgh. Don’t talk about that. Makes me think about how disappointing it is that we have hyperspace travel but haven’t yet worked out an efficient way to make children without having to go through all that business of swelling up like a plum for nine months, then bleeding everywhere for hours.” Yang looked faintly ill.

Reuenthal chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Yang prodded him in the back with a foot. “Says the person who won’t have to go through the process.” 

“A sacrifice you might have to make if you want to retire and laze around all day as you like.” 

“Can’t I just march up to Reinhard and resign? I could say, Mein Kaiser, either you accept this resignation letter, or I’ll rebel.” 

“Surely it isn’t that simple, or you’d already have done so.” 

Yang sobered. He stared up at the ceiling even as Reuenthal finished stripping down to his underclothes, curling up beside him with a yawn. “I won’t have children for a reason like that,” Yang said, stroking his fingers up Reuenthal’s arm. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To people who wouldn’t even exist otherwise?” 

“It’s possible to be unfair in such a way, given the alternatives.” Yang looked pointedly at Reuenthal’s eyes. “The mistakes our parents made—I won’t repeat them. I won’t have children as an excuse, or for any reason other than the fact that I might at some point be willing and able to cherish them. Anything else would be unfair. Irresponsible, even.” 

“Ha.” Reuenthal rolled on top of Yang, holding his weight off Yang by his elbows. Pressed so close together, their scents mingled, making Reuenthal’s heart beat faster in anticipation. Yang stared evenly up at him before pulling him down into a kiss. Just as lazy as before, expecting Reuenthal to do all the work. He spread his thighs, rubbing his knees teasingly against Reuenthal’s hips. 

Even now, the concept of children felt like a distant possibility. Reuenthal could concede Yang’s point, however. As he kissed down Yang’s throat, undoing the buttons on Yang’s undershirt, Yang asked, “Why _are_ you here, Oskar?”

Reuenthal stared at him, but when Yang merely looked evenly back, Reuenthal said, “Isn’t it your birthday tomorrow? According to your file.” 

“Oh?” Yang laughed. “It is? I’ve forgotten.” 

“How can someone forget their own birthday?” 

“I’ve been following the Phezzanese calendar. It’s a little different, due to the length of their orbit. Their year is longer, so their months are named differently.” Yang kissed Reuenthal playfully on the cheek. “Well? Where’s my present? Or are you the present?” 

Reuenthal chuckled, holding Yang close. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.” 

“How long will you stay?” 

“Until I’m recalled,” Reuenthal said. 

“So a few days at best, then.” 

Reuenthal didn’t bother answering, unbuttoning his way down to Yang’s belly. He glanced up before he went lower, searching Yang’s face for a sign, but fingers curled into his hair and pressed him lower even as Yang kept his stare fixed pensively on the ceiling. Reuenthal resisted the push. “Yang.” 

“Hmm?”

“If you’re not in the mood, that’s fine.” 

“I don’t know what I’m in the mood for,” Yang admitted, though he petted Reuenthal’s hair. “Around you, I’m always off-balance.” 

Reluctantly, Reuenthal eased back up, nuzzling Yang’s throat, careful to keep his half-hard cock from pressing against Yang’s thigh. “Another game of Go, perhaps?” he asked lightly. 

“Rather a waste of resources, don’t you think? Moving your flagship all the way here just to spend your first night playing Go.” 

“You think sex is a better use of my time?” Reuenthal asked, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed.

“No, it’s even worse. I’m not sure what you could do to justify the immense amount of resources you’ve just burnt for your personal use,” Yang said, though he chuckled as he said it and kissed the edge of Reuenthal’s mouth. “Even if it’s for my birthday.” 

“It’s good to be an admiral,” Reuenthal said, trying to parse Yang’s strange mood. Unless. “Or. You aren’t happy to see me?” 

“I think Reinhard let you come to me for a reason,” Yang said, stroking Reuenthal’s back. “He’s either testing me, tempting me, or both.” 

“Does Reinhard even work like that?” Emotional tactics didn’t appear to be part of the Kaiser’s repertoire to Reuenthal. As far as he knew, Reinhard was celibate. “You’re overthinking things.” 

“I feel like I’m starting to lack clarity when you aren’t here,” Yang said, “as though my every action is measured by your absence. Yet now that you’re here, I’m losing focus in different ways.” 

“Is this a confession of love or spite?” Reuenthal asked, chuckling. His amusement faded as Yang stared thoughtfully at him by way of response. It felt easier to kiss Yang instead of waiting for an answer, even as he yearned to know what it was. Yang hummed, melting under his touch, holding him close. Fingers slipped between them, catching in the hem of Reuenthal’s underwear. Reuenthal grabbed Yang’s wrist. “Not if you don’t wish to.” 

“I’m far past the point where I’d do something like this when I don’t want to,” Yang said.

As much as Reuenthal believed him, Reuenthal himself was no longer in the mood, unsettled by Yang’s implications. He drew Yang against him instead, holding him still. Yang grumbled under his breath but snuggled closer, breathing deeply.

#

Yang complained bitterly when hustled out of bed by his staff to go to work, who weren’t impressed by protestations that it was his birthday. He slumped in his seat through early morning Senate inquiries, and yawned through attending a mass video call between Phezzanese colony governments. Reuenthal wasn’t fooled. Yang was drinking black tea—no brandy—and he occasionally murmured something to members of his staff while they brought him snacks or a refill. As much as Yang hated responsibility, he wasn’t the sort who’d shirk it even when it was forced onto his shoulders.

The Senate staff produced a large cake during recess, which visibly embarrassed Yang to receive. He slouched even deeper into his chair as Senators and staff dutifully sang him a birthday song, though he cheered up when offered a slice. The cake, despite likely being hastily bought, was a towering work of colourful pieces, its buttercream-coated flanks sprinkled with decorative fragments. The staff had decided not to guess at Yang’s age, and as such, there had only been one candle. 

Reuenthal tried a slice. He’d been expecting a flavour profile as odd as dinner had been, but strangely enough, the cake tasted just like cake did back in Odin. The sweetness sat uneasily on his tongue, and he washed it down with tea. 

“What purpose does having the Phezzanese Senate disrespect you serve?” Reuenthal asked as he had lunch with Yang in the governor’s office. The kitchens had tried to concoct a version of Julian’s Irish stew based on local ingredients, with little success. Palatable enough for Reuenthal, but Yang poked through it disconsolately. 

“What do you mean?” Yang asked, though he smiled faintly. He'd already begun drinking Reuenthal's present – a bottle of good brandy.

“You _are_ doing the work. Why else would you request an update on the latest water freight tax rate to outlying mining colonies?” 

“Maybe I need some light reading before bed,” Yang said, eating another mouthful and grimacing, “since my alpha, who crossed the stars to get to me, didn’t appear to be interested in doing much else with me.” 

Reuenthal sniffed. “Heavy-handed manipulation is rather beneath you, isn’t it?” 

“What do you mean?” Yang asked with a look of arch innocence, his spoon in his mouth. 

“Your alpha? I don’t believe that you even think of me that way.” Much as Reuenthal had tried. Instinct had pushed him into attempted domesticity, the last time Yang and himself had lived downwell in Odin. Reuenthal didn’t fool himself into thinking that it mattered all that much. Particularly after they’d been sent off on different campaigns, and he’d heard no personal word from Yang while Reuenthal had been in Tiamat. “Stop changing the subject.” 

“I don’t want to get the Phezzanese government into the habit of having to ask me for my opinion on anything,” Yang said, after eating part of his food and pushing it aside. “They were doing fine before I got here. Mostly. If they see me as a benign but lax presence, that will work.”

“What if you need something done? If they don’t fear you, how would that work in your favour?” 

“They’re not afraid of me. Reinhard is another matter. If sending Imperial soldiers over to hover threateningly in their offices doesn’t work, I can always invoke the Kaiser. It’s still a transitory period though, so we’re feeling each other out. Ideally, we’ll get to a point where I’ll pretend not to care even though I do, and they’ll pretend to think that I don’t, even though they know that I do.”

Reuenthal scoffed. “What’s the point of going to all that trouble?” 

“The people of Phezzan would be able to continue to live their lives with minimal disruption,” Yang said, wiping his mouth. “They’d continue to trust their system of government while distrusting autocratic rule.” 

“You still believe in democracy? Please. You’ve seen how that worked out in the FPA. Across human history.” 

“I’ve also seen how military dictatorships work out across human history,” Yang countered. “A system of rule through state-sanctioned violence and oppression can’t last. Especially not when it depends on the benevolence of a single person. Yet I suppose we’ve somehow managed not to destroy ourselves as yet. People are strange that way. You’d think we’d be extinct by now, given all our choices.”

“So you’re here to engage in the path of least interference? Why not spend your whole day playing Go, then? Why even bother attending Senate?” 

“Curiosity at first, then I got into the habit, and now the local news freaks out if I’m not in attendance,” Yang said, which was almost certainly mostly a lie. Reuenthal frowned but said nothing as lunch was cleared away. “You’re likely going to be put in a position of similar power soon, I should think. Maybe the Governor-General of the FPA, when Reuenthal finally crushes them.”

Reuenthal shuddered. “I hope not.” 

“Natural progression, once Reinhard runs out of things to reward his admirals with. Besides, he’d likely hope that it’ll keep you occupied.” Yang grinned at Reuenthal. “Maybe I should make the same offer to you but in reverse. Marry me, then live on Odin in obscurity.” 

Reuenthal let out a snort, then belatedly saw Yang’s point. Embedded as it was under his smile. Schooling his expression, Reuenthal said, “Should the award of such a post come to pass, I might take you up on it.” 

Yang blinked, then laughed. “I’ll remember that,” he said, and was in a far better mood during the rest of his day. 

During dinner, Yang’s touch lingered over Reuenthal’s wrist, his shoe curling against Reuenthal’s ankles. They played a lazy game of Go that ended with supper unfinished and Yang dragging Reuenthal into the bedroom, his expression unreadable even as he pushed Reuenthal down on the bed. Yang was wet enough against Reuenthal’s fingers, stripped down, his mouth eager against Reuenthal’s pulse. 

As Reuenthal stiffened under Yang’s touch, Yang grew quiet, his lips drawing up over his teeth. His fingers lingered possessively over Reuenthal’s skin, brushing demandingly over his shoulders as Yang settled over Reuenthal, making a small noise as he pushed Reuenthal inside him. Reuenthal cursed, grabbing for Yang’s hips, hesitating as Yang laughed. The fit should’ve been difficult without prep, but Yang’s body opened up for Reuenthal anyway, a wet, slow stretch that had Reuenthal gasping and clawing at the bed once they were joined. 

Yang watched him squirm, again unreadable. The most powerful man in this side of the galaxy, crowned reluctantly with power and regretting it. Still, he would rise toward more, even if he didn’t want to. That was the nature of their world. Yang closed his eyes, turning his face away. He bared his teeth as he rode Reuenthal, his rhythm irregular and sharp. Reuenthal didn’t help him along, instead stroking Yang’s thighs, his straining arms. Wanting more and never asking, because that was the pact between them—Reuenthal could see that now. 

To be nothing more to each other than sometime lovers, so that they _could_ be lovers. Anything more would be a political threat, one that the Kaiser would have no choice but to address sooner or later. Reuenthal’s hands clenched tight on Yang’s hips, bruising his understanding into Yang’s skin. Above him, Yang shuddered, shaping a moan around Reuenthal’s name. Yang reached down to touch himself, catching his lip between his teeth as he clenched tight around Reuenthal. He soon grew still with a stifled groan, his knuckles growing wet against Reuenthal’s belly, his body squeezing down until Reuenthal snarled and thrust up, his knot swelling. 

Yang started to laugh. He ignored Reuenthal as Reuenthal gave him a questioning stare, subsiding into uneven breaths. He dozed off as Reuenthal got them cleaned up, but woke up again with a yawn as Reuenthal settled them into bed. “I wished we loved each other,” Yang said sleepily as he curled against Reuenthal. “That would make things less complicated.” 

Reuenthal chuckled, kissing Yang’s temple. “You mean, we don’t?” 

“Not the way I’ve been told that it works,” Yang said, stifling another yawn. “Tragic pining and desperate longing and jealousy and all that. If this is love, I’ve either gotten short shrift, or it’s not as cracked up as it’s supposed to be. Either way, all these centuries of literature on the topic have lied to me.” 

“Didn’t you tell me that you lose focus around me?” 

“What does that have to do with this?” Yang frowned up at him. “I meant I keep getting distracted by all the ways this could go wrong, then I start wondering whether I might as well let all that happen. Just to see how it plays out. Why? What about you?” 

“I did come all the way here to see you,” Reuenthal pointed out. “The very definition of a star-crossed lover.”

“Is that a joke?” Yang made a face. “Your sense of humour remains terrible. Especially when you’re sober.” 

“I don’t know,” Reuenthal conceded, thinking about it. “I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know if this is it. It’s different from what I’ve felt before for other people, however. I’ve never particularly cared all that much about the welfare of people I took to bed. Nor would I have jeopardised my military career on their behalf.” 

“So you do concede that coming here was a waste.”

“Of resources. Not my time.” Reuenthal brushed a kiss over Yang’s mouth. “None of the time that I’ve spent with you has been a waste.” 

“Hm. For someone who doesn’t know if he’s in love, your words are strangely romantic.”

“I’d say the same,” Reuenthal said, amused, “and yet I somehow doubt romantic words have the capacity to move either of us to madness, if that’s what they’re meant to do between lovers.” 

“No,” Yang said, again with his unreadable stare as he looked into Reuenthal’s mismatched eyes. “We’re not that kind of people. It’d be easier if we were.”

#

As the spaceport came within view in the landcar, Yang tensed against Reuenthal, curled as they were in the back seat. Reinhard’s order had been polite but firm—Reuenthal was to return to Odin and await further instruction. No mention of Yang.

“I’ll visit,” Reuenthal said, though neither of them knew how possible that would be. 

“Easier for me to visit,” Yang said. 

“Are you that sentimental?” 

“I didn’t think you would be,” Yang said, though he sounded contemplative. 

“Dodging my questions again,” Reuenthal said. He pulled Yang over for a kiss as the landcar stopped, grazing Yang’s lower lip with his teeth. 

“It’s better for me not to be sentimental about all this,” Yang said as they parted, smiling wanly. “So if I do return to Odin to see you, think of it as a capitulation of sorts.” 

“How so?” 

“I wouldn’t cross all that space just for a social call,” Yang said. He squeezed Reuenthal’s fingers. “I’d expect a ring, at the very least. Nothing too gaudy.” 

Reuenthal stared at Yang, incredulous. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Are you…? What sort of proposal is this?”

“One just as unsentimental as the one you offered me,” Yang shot back. “‘Marry me if you want to retire’, indeed.” He got a knee up on the seat and bit Reuenthal on his throat, high above his collar, working in his teeth. Reuenthal hissed, his fingers jumping for Yang’s shoulder, then straying to his cheek, accepting the mark. 

“Fine,” Reuenthal said, as Yang drew back. “I look forward to it.”

“It might not be for some time,” Yang warned, though he sat back, satisfied. 

“I can be patient.” 

The landcar lingered as Reuenthal got out, striding toward the spaceport. On the shuttle up, Reuenthal glanced down through the enveloping clouds, trying to pick out the governor’s mansion in the sprawling capital as he touched his fingertips to the stinging mark on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> donation prompt policy, my writing process, original work/book: manicintent.carrd.co


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